


And I Let the Knots of Time Come Undone

by CouldntBeDamned



Series: I Feel the Love, And I Feel it Burn [5]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, An unnecessary amount of Dr. Pepper, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationships, House Cleaning, M/M, POV Stephen Strange, Peter Parker is of legal age, Peter is a Little Shit, Relationship Discussions, Self-Reflection, Stephen Strange is in for it, Thank you for humoring me, The Bell of Domestic Damnation, this is so self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldntBeDamned/pseuds/CouldntBeDamned
Summary: After breaking one of their established rules, Stephen finds himself at Peter's service for the day.  Tasked with his least favorite chores, Stephen tries to maintain his sanity and make it through, all while reluctantly admitting to himself that all things considered, he's getting off easy.If only he could get rid of that damn bell...
Relationships: Peter Parker/Stephen Strange
Series: I Feel the Love, And I Feel it Burn [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987168
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	And I Let the Knots of Time Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent I can't even.

**And I Let the Knots of Time Come Undone**

* * *

It wasn’t how he wanted to be on his knees.

If he were to be on his knees, he wanted it to be because Peter’s dick was in his mouth.

But rules were rules. He couldn’t exactly bow out, not when he was so strict about them when it concerned Peter. Still. This, to use a favorite phrase of Peter's, sucked.

He added more of the pine-scented cleaner to the bucket of warm water and dipped the brush back in. Then he continued scrubbing around the base of the toilet while letting the bowl soak in the solution. This bathroom was almost done, and then he’d move on to the water closet downstairs.

This really was such a pain in the ass, but fair was fair.

At least he’d feel better, when all of this was done.

A bell rang.

_Of course._

Sighing, he stood up, checked to see how the solution was progressing in the task of cleaning the porcelain bowl of the toilet, and then made his way to Peter’s room.

_It was just after three in the morning when he finally arrived home. He was exhausted and sore. He was glad that the interdimensional rift had been closed, and the group of Novices that had accidentally conjured it out of the London Sanctum were back in the proper reality and healing from their injuries. More so, he was relieved to be home._

_He went upstairs and found Peter (presumably naked, given the way his clothes were strewn about the floor) curled up in their bed. Peter had told him more than once how much he liked the soft, plush blankets and other bedding that Stephen made a habit of keeping. Peter looked breathtaking, asleep with the dark navy blanket stark against his smooth, milky skin, even if only his neck and face were visible._

_Stephen wanted to join him - oh, how he wanted to join him! - but he was covered in goo from the fight with an inter-dimensional flora beast while rescuing the Novices and he needed to shower. Magical scouring could only do so much to make a man feel clean._

_After sending his set of robes off to be cleaned, he stood under the spray of hot water, letting the heat melt away the goo and his stress. He enjoyed his duties, his sworn responsibilities - more than he had ever thought he would. But he didn’t like being away from Peter. It was bad enough that Peter risked his life every time he put on his suit and went off to patrol. (Not to mention he spent most of the year away at college.) But when Stephen had to travel to other dimensions in order to keep his home dimension safe? He worried for Peter in his absence._

_He used to worry that he was too possessive of Peter, too unyielding in his desire for Peter and his drive to protect him. But Peter hardly ever complained outside of their dynamic; in fact, he’d flourished since being with Stephen. He was happy and well cared for. He was also doing remarkably well at Columbia and had just finished his sophomore year. He’d made friends that challenged him but didn’t demand all of his time. His visits to his aunt always had him returning with satisfaction and happiness that she was enjoying her new job, the extra money and time for a social life._

_Peter had grown up so much and moved with confidence he hadn’t had before._

_(Peter was right. He was such a hopeless romantic and very soft-hearted.)_

_He hurriedly dried himself and got into bed, satisfied when Peter’s sleeping form immediately curled into him._

_Stephen was so glad to be home._

He knocked on Peter’s door. Peter had told him more than once he didn’t need to, but it was common courtesy. Besides, he required Peter to knock before coming into his study, so. Fair. _Stupid, annoying fair._

“Come in!”

Peter was sitting on the floor in front of the tv in his room, playing the latest video game - _Avengers: Revenge of Ultron_. His headset was on and he was talking under his breath. _“No. Shit! Fall back! Louis, watch your six! Yes! Got ‘em!”_

Peter looked up at him, face all innocence that he didn’t buy for a single second. _“Hey guys, going dark for a minute. Be right back.”_ He took his headset off.

“You rang?” Stephen asked.

Peter grinned. “Can you get me another Dr. Pepper? And some spicy nacho cheese Doritos?”

_Vishanti’s mystic-loving almac._

“Of course,” he said instead. “Can I get you anything else while I’m in the kitchen?”

“Not at the moment.” He paused. “Hang on. Did you remember to use the sensitive fabric softener on my stuff?”

“Yes, I did.” That wasn’t something he’d forget about, given that anything and everything even remotely related to Peter’s health was filed in folders marked **IMPORTANT** in his brain.

“Awesome!”

“I’ll be right back,” Stephen told him.

“Thanks!”

_When Stephen woke up the next morning, Peter wasn’t in bed. He frowned. Peter was usually one for sleeping in, especially over summer break. And honestly, Stephen had been looking forward to morning sex with Peter._

_He got out of bed at the unmistakable smell of bacon and warm bread. If there wasn’t morning sex with Peter, a hot and fresh breakfast with Peter would be the next best thing. He dressed and went downstairs._

_Peter was in the kitchen as he’d thought and already had a mug of coffee set out for Stephen. With a grin, Stephen walked over and pulled Peter close._

_“I missed you,” he said, breathing in the scent of Peter._

_“I missed you, too,” Peter replied, tilting his head so that Stephen could kiss his neck, if he chose._

_He chose._

_“Sit down and let me finish up, yeah?” Peter asked when Stephen finally returned his lips to Peter’s mouth._

_“Thanks for this.”_

_“No problem,” Peter said._

_Peter brought over two plates after a few minutes, with warm buttered toast, eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes with onions. It looked and smelled amazing. Stephen had never been such a fan of breakfast before meeting Peter._

_“Orange juice?”_

_“No, I’m good.”_

_Peter sat as well._

_Stephen was about to take a bite of the potatoes when Peter’s question had lead settling in his gut._

_“So, where have you been for the past week?”_

Oh. Fuck.

The chime signaling that the dryer had finished sounded and Stephen sighed. There were still two more loads of laundry to do. And he had to finish cleaning the bathrooms. And get the grocery shopping for the week done. And whatever else Peter asked of him.

First thing first, he filled a bowl with the Doritos that Peter seemed to love and pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper from the fridge. He took them up to Peter and his lover’s acknowledgement and gratitude was little help to his mood.

He really didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

Content to let the toilet upstairs soak a little longer, Stephen went to the laundry room and started folding the clothes from the dryer. He separated his and Peter’s items, even going so far as to fold Peter’s clothes the way he’d seen May do previously. Then he hung up what needed to air dry of what was in the washer and threw the rest of it into the dryer. He cleaned the lint trap and set the appliance to dry.

He added one of the remaining loads to the barrel of the washer, along with the detergent and fabric softener that were the only ones that wouldn’t send Peter into a hive-scratching mess. Loading up one of the hampers with the folded clothes, he carried it to their bedroom and started putting things away.

He’d be so glad when the day was over. Seven pm couldn’t come fast enough.

_Stephen summoned his phone. No phone calls to Peter, but plenty from, all sent to voicemail. He scrolled through his messages (so many from Peter, a few from Christine, all unread) and his emails. No mention to Peter of what had happened. He looked up at an expectant Peter. “I didn’t leave a note anywhere here?”_

_Peter shook his head. “Not unless you left it in your study.” He crossed his arms. “And that wouldn’t count.”_

_Stephen couldn’t argue with that. Peter wasn’t allowed in the study without permission, and, after an incident where Peter had snuck in and almost died, Stephen kept the study magically locked. If he’d left a note in there - and he was almost certain he hadn’t - then it was the same as not telling Peter._

_“I was called away to an emergency at the London Sanctum. A group of Novices were practicing and accidentally opened and were sucked into an unstabilized interdimensional rift. It took me and five other Masters to pull them out and close the rift. Then we had to heal the damage to this reality. I didn’t realize that I’d been gone so long.”_

_Peter nodded. “I came home, and you weren’t here. I couldn’t find any note and you never answered my calls or my texts.” He drew in a long breath and Stephen could see that he was on the verge of tears. “I was worried.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Stephen said. “I really am! Everything happened so suddenly that I forgot.”_

_“Did anyone else know what was going on? At your day job?”_

_Stephen thought. “Yes, the Sanctum Chamber would have been notified.”_

_“So why couldn’t they bring a message here to me?” Peter asked. “They can reach you, but I can’t.”_

_It wasn’t an unreasonable request. He almost wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it._

When he checked on the bathroom, he realized the hot water had gone cold and reluctantly dumped it in the tub before filling it again.

He wasn’t allowed to use magic, when he was being punished.

He’d tried to argue that rule but lost when Peter pointed out that he wasn’t allowed to use his advanced healing when he was being punished. Fair was fair, unfortunately enough.

He scrubbed the toilet clean, grateful for the rubber gloves, and made sure the base and surrounding tile were near-sparkling. He wiped the vanity and sink down and cleaned off the mirror. He even took Comet to the tub and though it took longer than he’d liked, had gotten rid of the faint ring. Then he scrubbed the grout on the floor and mopped.

One down, the water-closet downstairs to go.

Stephen gathered up his supplies and made his way downstairs.

Then the dryer went off and he wanted to toss it all down and scream.

_The thing was… Stephen couldn’t exactly get away with it._

_If he expected Peter to always keep him informed of where he’d be - especially if he wasn’t going to be on campus or at the Sanctum, then he couldn’t not do it himself. Super-heroing wasn’t an excuse; more than once he’d gotten a message from Karen sent to him that Peter was currently fighting in the Bronx, or wherever some problem had popped up. Or FRIDAY would reach out and let him know. Peter, for the most part, was pretty responsible about it, all things considered._

_And usually, Stephen was very good about at least leaving Peter a note or sending him a message when he was called away._

_But he hadn’t this time. And that, unfortunately, was on him. Which meant he’d have to undergo his form of punishment._

_“I have this Saturday free,” he told Peter. “I’ll be at your service for the day.”_

_Peter nodded. “Okay.”_

_“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know what was going on and that you spent the week worrying about me. I should have taken the minute to write a note or send you a text. If I get called away like that again, I’ll make sure to let the ones responsible for the Sanctum Chamber that day know to give you a message. Even if I’ve already told you.”_

_“Thanks.”_

Stephen set the supplies down in the water closet and went to laundry room.

He checked the clothing in the dryer, ensured it was properly dry. Satisfied, he pulled it out and started to fold or hang. He ended up with a neatly folded pile of the science-pun, math-pun, and other-pun t-shirts that Peter loved so much, along with numerous pairs of boxers and socks.

With a sigh, he transferred the wet clothes to the dryer and set it to cycle. He put another load of clothes in the washer, added the detergent and fabric softener, and ran it. Then he loaded up the free hamper with his folded efforts and took it upstairs to their bedroom. He put everything away just so, determined to not grumble as he did so. He didn’t appreciate when Peter grumbled during his punishments, after all.

It was all so tedious and repetitive. Which was, he knew, kind of the point.

Downstairs, the water closet beckoned.

And after that, the errands.

As he was filling up the bucket with hot water, the bell rang.

_“What’s on your agenda for today?” Stephen asked._

_Peter shrugged and finished putting the plates in the dishwasher. “I don’t know. There was a movie I was going to see this past week, but…” he trailed off. “I might go see that, if there’s a matinee.”_

_Once again, guilt shot through Stephen. Peter had been so worried he’d basically done nothing for a week. It was summer, he was almost twenty-one, and he’d spent a week wondering just where Stephen was and if he’d come back safely or even at all._

_“I’m sorry,” he said again, head hanging. The words didn’t feel like enough, though. If the situation was reversed - and it_ had _been reversed - he would have been mad with worry._

_“You aren’t the only one who worries, you know.”_

_He looked up. Peter was leaning over the island, forearms resting on the cool marble, hands clasped. His brown eyes were bright, and Stephen could tell he was trying very hard not to cry._

_“I trust you to make a lot of decisions where I’m concerned and look after me. And to do that, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to be smart, look after yourself, and respect the rules the way you expect me to,” Peter said. “If I can’t, then I don’t know.”_

_“I understand,” he said._

_“Do you?” Peter asked, with more forceful a tone than he usually used with Stephen. “I know you worry about me, and that you’ll all but rip the multiverse apart to make sure I’m safe and happy. It’s empowering and terrifying and so much more than I ever imagined it would be. And I don’t feel stifled by it, I feel, I don’t know, cherished, I guess.”_ _Peter paused to fiddle with a dry dish rag._ _“But it goes both ways. You said I take care of you in my own way, and you need to know that I want you safe and happy as much as you want that for me.”_

_That was… that was the entire point, wasn’t it?_

Finding himself in front of Peter’s door once again, he knocked.

“It’s open!”

Peter was still playing his video game. Stephen watched, bemused, as he did some complicated finger work on the controller. _“Hey Louis, wanna watch where you’re aiming that thing?”_ Peter frowned. _“Well, maybe if you quit trying to get Black Widow’s attention and maybe destroyed a bot or two, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”_ He looked at Stephen, shook his head as if to say, “Can you believe this shit?” _“Hey, BRB.”_

“You rang?” Stephen asked lightly. He really, _really_ hated that damn bell.

Peter smiled innocently. “Can I get another Dr. Pepper and a refill?” He motioned to the empty bowl at his side.

Stephen nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, and if you could grab a pack of the mini-Reese’s cups when you’re at the grocery store later that would be awesome!”

_Watoomb help him._

“I’ll add it to the list,” he promised. He stooped to grab the empty bowl and felt Peter kiss his forehead. He straightened, definitely _not_ blushing. “I’ll be right back.”

Peter grinned. “Sweet!”

_“I was really scared,” Peter said quietly. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse,” he added quickly when Stephen hung his head. “I just… I know there’s never a promise that either of us will come back when we have to go fight or help with something. But not knowing where you are or what you’re facing makes me feel so powerless.”_

_Stephen understood. The few times he hadn’t known where Peter was only to later find that he’d been injured fighting as Spider-Man or had been in an accident as Peter Parker were etched into his already perfect memory. It tested him as nothing else ever had or ever could._

_“You’re absolutely right,” he said._

_Peter looked surprised. Goodness, was the idea of Stephen agreeing with him so out of the ordinary?_

_“I let you down,” Stephen said. “Intentional or not, that’s what I did. I’m meant to be a source of security for you, and I wasn’t. I can’t expect you to keep yourself safe when I’m not doing the same.”_

_“Just… please don’t let it happen again?” Peter asked, voice so longing it nearly broke Stephen’s heart._

_How had he never really given thought to the fact that Peter felt just as strongly about him, as he did Peter?_

_“I’m going to do my best to make sure it doesn’t,” Stephen promised._

_They weren’t just lovers or two people who enjoyed living together and sharing their lives with each other. They were partners. Equals._

After another trip to the kitchen where he got Peter his umpteenth soda of the day and a refill of the absolute affront to anything edible called ‘Spicy Nacho Doritos,’ Stephen returned to Peter’s room and made his delivery. Peter gave him a thumbs up in thanks. Then he made his way to the waiting water closet.

He would get the damn thing clean even it killed him.

The water, predictably, had gone cold.

Taking a moment to meditate for patience, he went about refilling the damn thing so he could get this blasted task out of the way. Adding some cleaner and swishing it around, he got to work.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Stephen was finished. He’d hoped to be done sooner, but he kept noticing things that would be easy enough to also do, like organize the cabinet under the sink. And the one above the toilet. And really, the base boards needed to be wiped down, too.

This was what he hated about cleaning - once he started, he had a hard time stopping until he’d gotten everything.

And damn him, he’d mentioned that little quirk of his to Peter.

So. Cleaning.

With the worst of it out of the way, all Stephen had to do now was worry about the rest of the laundry and the errands he needed to run. And then he’d just have to bide his time, answering Peter’s bell rings until the clock ran out and he was done.

Easy.

_The mood for the rest of the day was relatively normal, with the exception of Peter clinging to Stephen as though it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing again._

_They both went to the movie Peter had mentioned and Stephen hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Peter ordered the biggest popcorn and soda available. Why_ carbonated _caffeine didn’t seem to affect the young man like coffee did, Stephen didn’t know. But he paid and ushered them both to the designated theater and let Peter choose the seats._

_It was pretty entertaining, he thought. Fantasy as a genre had never held much interest for him, but he liked the heroine and the world she inhabited along with its structure of magic was well-crafted. He made a note to check out the books Peter said it was adapted from. (He also liked the talking cat.)_

_Early evening still free, they just walked around the nearby mall, people-watching. When Peter asked about dinner, Stephen was firm in his requirement that Peter actually order and eat something nutritious after the ridiculous amount of soda and popcorn he’d had. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but a quirk of Stephen’s eyebrow was enough to have him rethinking that choice._

_“Don’t make that face at me,” Stephen warned after he nixed Peter’s hopes at getting fries with his sandwich rather than a salad._

_Peter schooled his expression._

_“That’s better.”_

_“Are those people okay?” Peter asked while they waited on their food. “The ones you had to go rescue?”_

_“Physically, yes,” Stephen said. “Luckily we have some therapists at Kamar-Taj who will be able to help them process what’s happened.”_

_“Was that rift worse than the one you dealt with?”_

_Stephen froze. Peter almost never asked about that, and Stephen rarely, if ever, wanted to discuss it._

_“It was not,” he said finally. “Of course, I can only speak for myself. The students may well have a different perspective.”_

_“It’s so weird to think of you as a teacher,” Peter said after a bit, a small smile playing about his lips._

_“Oh?” And why is that?" Stephen was genuinely curious._

_“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the instructor type. You’re more like a hard-ass principle.”_

_Stephen laughed. “I’m sure that’s how many of the students there see me. And to be fair, while I do oversee some of the on-goings and will step in if asked, I don’t teach the majority of lessons.”_

_“Did you ever have to teach before?” Peter asked. “When you were a doctor? You know what I mean,” he added with a look, before Stephen could remind him that he was, in fact, still a doctor. “When you were still doing surgery.”_

_“MetroGeneral is a teaching hospital, yes. And I had a small flock of interns I was responsible for overseeing throughout my residency. But like the mystic arts, it was also very hands-on.”_

_“Can I come and watch some time?”_

_“The students at Kamar-Taj?”_

_"Yeah. I think it would be neat to see. It’s a big part of your life and you already know all about Columbia._

_Stephen considered. “Let me get Wong and the other Masters’ thoughts. They do the majority of the teaching.”_

_“Cool!”_

_Peter was in such a good mood at the prospect of getting to see Stephen “in his natural habitat” that he didn’t even make a face when the salad was put in front of him._

Laundry now finished, folded, and put away, and water closet almost sparkling, Stephen decided it was time to complete the errands portion of his day.

He knocked on the door of Peter’s room, again. He was told to come in, again.

Peter was playing a different video game now and his headset was off.

“Finish the game with your friends?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah. Louis and Shannon both have summer jobs, so we play until it’s time for them to start getting ready for work.”

Stephen nodded. “I’m getting ready to go to the store. You’ve emailed me the list, right?”

“Yep!”

“Is there anything else you’d like for me to pick up?” He asked. He almost added “within reason,” but knew Peter wasn’t going to completely push it.

“I don’t think so, except the Reese’s cups I mentioned earlier.”

“And have you decided what you’d like for dinner?”

Peter shrugged.

“That’s not an answer,” Stephen said.

“I don’t know,” Peter finally said. “I know these days have me pretty much in charge, but it’s a lot!” His voice turned quiet. “It’s why I make a list at first.”

“I understand,” Stephen said. He thrived on control in a way Peter didn’t. As much as Peter enjoyed having Stephen as his literal beck and call whenever Stephen had broken a rule, it wasn’t something he was used to.

“I guess we could grab pizza or something. And no salads!” He added, voice comically firm.

Stephen stifled his laugh. “Okay then. Shall we go out after I get back or do you want to order in?”

“Order in,” Peter said. “Then it’s a lot quicker to get you on top of me.”

Stephen checked his watch. “Just you wait. In a few hours I’ll be all over you.”

Peter grinned. “I’m looking forward to it!”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Stephen told him. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll let you know when I’m finished at the grocery store and when I’m on my way back.”

_As much as Stephen wanted to exhaust himself and Peter with a very long, very depraved night of sex, Peter’s body language wasn’t very promising._

_“Are you tired?” he asked him while they got ready for bed._

_Peter nodded and then tried to stifle a yawn as he splashed water on his face. “Sorry I’m not up for it. It was a long week.”_

_“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’ll just sleep.”_

_Peter dried his face off. “Sleep sounds good. I always sleep better when you’re in bed, too.”_

_Just as Stephen felt sleep starting to claim him for the night, Peter snuggled into him. “You can wreck me in the morning,” his lover promised._

_The next morning… Stephen did._

Errands for his day of servitude consisted of the grocery shopping. And if he’d hoped that it would be a quick in-and-out of Wegmans, he was wrong. Because the list was broken up into Wegmans, Trader Joe’s, a local meat market, and a Korean grocery store.

Stephen just wasn’t a fan of shopping for groceries. He never had been, and growing up, it had always been something his mother and younger brother had done. Victor had had a knack for picking the best produce and their mother had never met a budget she couldn’t stretch into meals for a dozen. Stephen, his sister Donna, and their father had all been too impatient for the task.

He did smile a bit, when he read through the list that Peter had emailed him, however.

Peter, who didn’t have any true malice in his soul, had made notes for him on the list, like _you didn’t like this brand of dressing,_ _Wong’s favorite flavor is coconut,_ and _stay away from this brand - they just had a recall._

It was hard to be too annoyed when Peter was such a sweetheart about it.

Another thing that helped his mood were the grocery bags. They were the one magic thing he was allowed to use when he was being “punished.” And that was only because they were what he, Peter, AND Wong used for grocery shopping. Since none of them had a car, and none of them wanted to go through the hassle of trying to load bags in and out of taxis, it was easier to just have a few bags that were… bigger on the inside. And spelled - by Wong, not him - to be super lightweight and temperature controlled.

(Also? He was glad to be away from that damn bell.)

It took him a couple of hours, but he picked up everything on Peter’s list - including the Reese’s Cups - and a few other things he realized were needed while he was cleaning, like the detergent and fabric softener for Peter’s clothes. He tossed a couple of Sudoku books onto the belt for Wong while waiting in line at Wegman’s and did his best to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

The other stores were simple enough. Peter’s notes included just what meals certain items would be used for, and helped Stephen determine what cuts of meat were needed and in the case of the Korean grocery store, allow the very amused employee to help him pick out the right kinds of noodles and sauces.

When Stephen was done, he hailed a taxi, relieved that it was almost over.

He had one hour left.

He just had to get home, get everything unloaded and put away, hope and pray that the bell didn’t ring, and make it through the last hour.

Then it would be pizza, Peter, and hopefully lots of sex.

Stephen settled the bags into the trunk of the taxi and sent a message off to Peter to let him know that he was on his way back. The cabby pulled back into traffic after he was buckled in and Stephen took the short interlude to relax.

 _You only have yourself to blame,_ he reminded himself. _This is a small price to pay for all of the worry you caused Peter._

In the grand scheme of things, it really was.

He’d do anything to keep from being the cause of Peter’s worry like that again.

The pantry, refrigerator, and freezer filled; Stephen took a moment to settle himself. It was six o’clock.

One hour left.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Sitting down to read a book felt disrespectful somehow.

So, he called _A Slice of Bleecker Street_ and ordered their pizzas for delivery at seven.

Then the bell rang.

_Cytorrak’s Crimson Balls._

With Herculean effort, he refrained from banging his head against the counter and went upstairs to Peter’s room.

After the now-familiar knocking and entering ritual, Stephen found Peter kicked back on his bed, reading a book.

“Peter?”

Peter looked up. “Can I get another Dr. Pepper?” he asked. “And can you let me know when the pizza is here?”

“Sure.” He really was going to have to figure out why Peter was perfectly fine with caffeinated soda but couldn’t drink coffee without nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Thanks!” Peter said brightly. “Was the grocery shopping okay?”

“Yes. Your notes were helpful.”

“Good!” Peter looked exceptionally pleased. “Wong looked a little skeptical last time I made up the list with notes.”

“Wong always looks skeptical,” Stephen assured him with a smirk. “I appreciated the extra help. I’ll grab your drink and be right back.”

“Cool!”

As he made his way to get what had to be Peter’s sixth Dr. Pepper of the day (and really that amount of soda was ridiculous for anyone), he decided that honestly, the day hadn’t been _too_ terrible.

Peter received the drink with a cheerful grin and before Stephen could depart, asked if he’d stay. “You’ve only got a little bit left, right?”

Stephen checked his watch and sat on the bed. “Thirty-four minutes.”

Peter settled into his side. “So then just stay with me? I know I’ve been a huge pain in your ass, bu-”

“Peter,” he warned. His punishment or not, Peter still wasn’t allowed to talk about himself like that.

“I know you hate this stuff.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“I just don’t want you to hate me because of it,” Peter finally said.

“I could never hate you,” Stephen told him. “These days where you’re the one telling me what to do, I don’t hate them. They’re not my favorite, but they’re necessary. They’re so I can be reminded that I didn’t do what I supposed to do, which was take care of you. That the tasks involved are the ones _you_ pick are, so I have motivation to not fail you again.”

“And you promise they don’t make you hate me? Or want to get back at me?”

“I promise. Does my spanking you or making you wash your mouth out with soap cause you to hate me?”

Peter shook his head. “No. You’re not my favorite person when it happens, but it’s usually my own fault.” At Stephen’s raised a brow, he corrected himself. “Okay, it’s always my own fault. And then I just, I don’t know. I guess then I’m just kind of blown away because I know you wouldn’t take it all so seriously if you didn’t care so much about me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Stephen assured him. “It might not to other people. But to you and me, it works.” 

“So, we’re good?”

He loved this man. “Yes, we’re good. Now, I might want to cast that damn bell into a hell dimension, but never you,” Stephen teased.

“You’re not getting rid of the bell,” Peter insisted. “I love it. And true love lasts forever.”

“Yes, yes it does.” Stephen linked their hands.

Peter blushed and turned his head. “Why do you _do_ that?”

Stephen leaned down and kissed Peter’s cheek. “Because I never want you to doubt how I feel about you.”

“Just remember that the next time I screw up,” Peter teased.

“Oh, it’s never far from my mind.” He relaxed back against the headboard. “How’s your book?”

Peter looked at it consideringly. “It’s entertaining enough. At least the author doesn’t go on and on about how his heroine breasted boobily down the stairs. I think I know who the killer is, though. At this point I’m just reading to see if I’m right or not.”

Stephen laughed. “Fair enough.”

“What time is the pizza supposed to be here?”

“I said seven.”

“Our usual order?” Peter asked.

“Minus those terrible, evil salads,” Stephen assured him.

“Okay, now you’re making fun of me,” Peter accused.

“I am. A great and powerful superhero, laid low by the thought of leafy greens…”

“I will ring this bell nonstop until the pizza gets here,” Peter warned him.

Stephen just laughed.

Downstairs, the ancient grandfather clock chimed, followed by some knocking at the door.

While Stephen rose from the bed, Peter sighed.

“Come on,” Stephen urged. “I’m hungry and I know you are, too.”

“And just like that, I’m powerless.”

“You’re anything but.”

They ate their pizza and Stephen poured them each a glass of milk, pointedly sliding one over to Peter. “How you have any teeth left is beyond me.”

Peter accepted his small defeat. “I’m actually glad I can’t eat like that every day.”

“Did you want to do anything tomorrow?”

“Actually, I wanted to see what you wanted. Like, you always have these little rituals, you know? After you’ve spanked me, or I’ve had to write lines? And uh, it just occurred to me that I don’t have them for you. So, I didn’t know if you had anything you needed from me.”

For a moment, Stephen was speechless. And then his heart went positively gooey. “I… I suppose I just want to know that I’m forgiven. And I want to hold you. A lot.”

“I forgave you way before today,” Peter said. “So yeah, you’re forgiven, because of course you are. And we can cuddle. We spend the rest of the weekend cuddling, if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Stephen admitted.

Leftover pizza safely wrapped up in the fridge, they went ahead and changed into pajamas. Peter retrieved his laptop, and they spent the rest of the evening curled up in bed, watching a movie that let them be mindless and focus instead on each other.

When Peter shut the laptop off after the movie ended and pulled Stephen on top of him, all Stephen could think about was how much he needed Peter.

It wasn’t frantic or rough as Stephen pushed inside Peter. They took their time, feeling each other and gently building up the sensations. Peter clung to Stephen with every rock of the older man’s hips, kissed whatever skin his lips could find. Stephen’s face was buried in Peter’s neck as he moved, driving them both towards a release that had them moaning in relief and pleasure.

Shaky, blissful, they lay together. Stephen had the presence of mind to pull one of the blankets up and over them after sending a cleansing spell throughout the room and Peter gratefully turned in his arms so that he could snuggle in further.

“I love you,” Peter said. “So much.”

Stephen kissed the top of Peter’s head. “I love you.”

Tired but secure in the knowledge that he and Peter were as strong as ever, Stephen slept.

All was right in their world.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Another story in this little AU I have where Stephen and Peter are in a relationship with a **consensual and negotiated** domestic discipline dynamic. There are rules and expectations that are agreed upon by the both of them (not sexual in nature), as well as certain punishments (again, not sexual in nature) for breaking those rules.
> 
> One thing I really wanted to explore was how Stephen would have to face his own sort of punishment if he didn't follow a rule. His punishment is service-based, since he wouldn't really get the same sort of catharsis and self-reflection Peter does from a spanking. And I love the idea that Peter would assign him chores that he really dislikes, and take the opportunity to have some gentle fun at Stephen's expense.


End file.
